A Letter to My Son
by alixofagnia
Summary: A letter from Annie to her son (written as she's dying from a terminal illness but read by her 12-year-old son after her death) about her backstory. Just some thoughts I had while watching Catching Fire/re-reading Annie and Finnick's scenes in the books.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

The waves are gentle today. They reflect the pristine blue topaz of the sky, gulls wheel in delight. The day is warm, peaceful, soothing. A barge makes its way out to sea; the small group on its deck stand with bowed heads as a narrow-shouldered boy fumbles with the clasp of a container and shakes out the contents over the water.

The subtle breeze whips the fine dust into the horizon, and the narrow-shouldered boy hangs his head sadly as the others touch his arm or face in tender gestures of comfort. One wizened woman pauses and without speaking, hands him a thick envelope. 'From your mother,' she says softly and hobbles away on experienced sea legs.

The boy stares at the packet. Dread and curiosity fight within him, but of course the latter wins, and with a heavy sigh he slowly wanders to the bow by himself. He opens the unsealed fold to see the familiar script of his mother's handwriting.

My dear Son-

I love you. I love you. First and foremost, forever.

I have just told you this when you came to tell me goodnight, and I hope I didn't make you too sad. But it is the truth. I hope the pain of my passing will soon be just an unpleasant memory for you, one among many, many happy ones. I hope you will soon be my smiley boy again; no, I know you will be, because you are your father's son:

You are strong. You are kind. You have passion for life and its many joys.

My mind has been running constantly tonight; I can't sleep. There is so much to tell you. I know you've always had questions and I am so sorry I was never able to tell you. Maybe I finally can, though, if I write it all down…

I think you must already know some things, from what I have been able to share and from Katniss's memory book. Even now, I find it too hard to talk about…much of any of that in this letter. I have spoken to Katniss and if you have any questions about the horrors of that time, you may ask her or Peeta. But you must be patient, considerate and thoughtful with your questions, as I know you will be, for it is a great burden for any of us to have to re-live (even through memory) any aspect of that time.

So, this, my dearest, is about the beginning, because no one else who was there remains to me…


	2. Chapter 2

I

I suppose I was always a loner.

I liked simple things: the lull of the tides; the feel of sand between my toes; looking for pretty shells and other treasures from the bottom of the ocean. I wasn't competitive; I wanted for everything to be fair. I wasn't sparkly or glossy; I was too shy. I could lay on the dunes for hours watching clouds form and re-form or the pelicans dive for fish and, sometimes, see whales send spray into the air. My mother called me a day-dreamer, except she spat it out, because I was often late or completely absent for my chores.

More often than not, my brother had to come find me. Shad was only three years older than me, but I worshipped him. He never scolded me or tried to humiliate me, like other older brothers in the village; I felt sorry for those girls. Before and after he began working on the fishing barges, he played with me on the dunes or hunted for sea lions with me, he even pretended to be a mermaid with me once. When dead things washed ashore and I stopped to examine them with sticks and my fingers, he didn't stop me; he taught me about the skeletal systems and showed me the way a fish could breathe underwater.

Shad protected my oddities and I was never teased like other children. Maybe because the awful bullies in the village knew they would have Shad to answer to. No one was ever mean to me; they just never spoke to me, so I never had a chance to prove my mettle. I didn't even know if I had mettle. He spoiled me a bit, to be honest because, you see, Shad was sort of like my father. When I was only a few months old, our father drowned in a storm on the barges with the fathers of three other families. One of those fathers, a widower, left an orphaned boy behind.

This boy, Finnick Odair, was my brother's best friend.


	3. Chapter 3

II

Finnick and Shad were always very popular in the village. When they let me tag along with them on some errand, I remember I felt a little bit like a queen because all the boys would look at me and all the girls would, for once, be jealous of that "odd little Annie girl".

But I guess I had one thing in common with the other little girls because I can't remember a time when I didn't love Finnick Odair. He wasn't my brother, he didn't have to be kind to me, but he was. All of Shad's other friends, and even boys my own age, ignored me, as did most of the village children. I used to make elaborate crowns out of seaweed and shells that I was proud to wear for everyone to admire, although hardly anyone except Shad ever did.

And Finnick.

I think I was six when Finnick came home with Shad for the first time. During my daily sojourn to the beach that morning I had made a lovely seaweed crown, one that I remember being particularly proud of though I have trouble picturing it now. But I had been wearing it all day and I was wearing it then, limp and beginning to make my hair stink with its decay, as I set the table; my mother had long given up trying to get me to throw it out.

Finnick was a polite boy. Even at ten, he could charm the morals out of a person. He certainly made a good impression on Mother, who actually blushed to be praised so for the quality of her cooking. Then, he turned to me and said I had a fine gift for crafts and could I show him how it was done? I was quite dubious about the request, my talents weren't very broad and I didn't think he meant it. In fact, I quite withered within myself from bashfulness. But he did mean it and after dinner, the three of us went down to the beach and I showed them how I made my seaweed crowns.

Do you remember when I taught you, my darling?


	4. Chapter 4

III

After that night, we became friends, Finnick and I.

When he came over to our house, it seemed like he came to see me, too. I remember the three of us sharing good times together: fishing with spears, building sand forts, swimming. Once, Shad and Finnick brought their friends to the beach and we played a volleyball tournament. We had bonfires and shrimp roasts, and some of the girls started to invite me into their circle, because if I was good enough for Finnick, I must be good for something. The wider world might be bleak, but the warmth of friendship kept the dark at bay. At least, for a little while longer.

When Shad turned 11, he began going to the town hall daily to begin training for the Games. Some started going even earlier than that, but Mother couldn't bear to send him. She didn't know that he, and Finnick, had both been going for two years already. It was the secret I kept for them. I don't think anyone ever thinks it's going to be them that gets Reaped. But responsibility had always come easily to my brother, and he wanted to be prepared.

Going to that first Reaping of my brother's was a terror I had been sheltered from. The waiting was the worst part. My mother could barely stand; I remember her arm about my shoulders and how heavy it was. Finnick had already been through his first Reaping the previous year, and somehow I don't recall feeling nearly as much fear. Perhaps because my fear wasn't doubled then. But the Reaping passed over both boys and life went on as usual.

I wasn't allowed to watch the Games yet. Not that I objected. I was beginning to realize I had a certain fragility of mind; one day, I found a baby seal beached on the shore. It was wounded in the side but still alive, barely. I tried to move it back to the water. I tried to patch the wound. I tried to feed it. I tried to pray. I tried to give it comfort as its life spilled out onto the sand.

Finnick, who was with me that day, indulged my whims. But, of course, he knew no matter what miracle I willed to happen, the baby wouldn't survive without its mother.

I think that was the first time my heart broke.

And the first time I realized how much I loved Finnick Odair.


	5. Chapter 5

IV

Another year passed. The night before the Reaping, Finnick had dinner with us.

This had become a weekly ritual since that first night. Even though he seemed to have a lot of friends, Finnick was a little bit of a loner, too. Maybe the stigma of being an orphan preyed on him. Strange that I don't know. He didn't really have any living family. I think there was an aunt or something across the district, but no one claimed him.

Except old Mags.

When I was a small child, all I knew about Mags was that she lived in the Victor's Village because she had won her Games. Also, I knew she was a legend at knot-tying. Over time, especially after Shad and Finnick had become friends, I came to know a few more things about Mags: 1) she had kind eyes, 2) she could swim the length of our beach four times over, 3) she once had a husband but no children, and 4) she loved Finnick so unconditionally she would do anything for him.

After we ate, the three of us headed out to the dunes as usual. The boys tried to avoid talking about the Reaping, but some evil made me ask if they were afraid.

I remember Shad put his hand on my shoulder. 'Don't worry, Annie,' he had said. 'That's the good thing about there being lots of us in this district: chances go down.'

Beside him, Finnick nodded with a winning smile. 'He's right, look at me. Two years in already and no draw.'

But somehow, I knew. I knew it would be one of them this year. The repulsively perky voice of the district escort clanged and echoed in my head that awful day. His was the voice of my Dread; I can still hear him. I shut my eyes tight, my hands reaching up to cover my ears. I didn't want to know, because if I didn't know, it wouldn't be true. It couldn't.

Mother tried to get me to stop, but I wouldn't, even when she smacked me on the back of the head. I let her lead me home like that, eyes closed, ears blocked. I didn't know who had been Reaped, until Shad came home a few moments later. I could have died with relief that it wasn't him. But his face was somber and I was afraid; the Reaped male tribute must have been one of his friends. And the Dread rose within me again.

Because I knew.

He was gone, before any of us could say goodbye


	6. Chapter 6

V

Mother said I was old enough now, but I never watched Finnick's Games. I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to watch Shad, if it had been him. All I knew, from Shad, was that he won.

That's all I needed to know.

That's all that mattered.

I wept.

Childishly, I hoped things would be the same. But I knew Finnick could never be the same again. All of District 4 was celebrating, so I inadvertently heard snippets here and there about his "feats" in the arena.

I cried at every new bit of utter horror that reached my unwilling ears. Now, I knew how frail I was. How could we live like this? How could these terrible things ever been allowed to happen? I asked these questions into my pillow those nights, waiting for Finnick to come back. I didn't have enough mettle to say them aloud.


	7. Chapter 7

VI

Finnick wasn't allowed to come home at once. As the youngest Victor of the Games, much was made of him in the Capitol. It was a sensation. It was a feat unlooked for. It was a point of pride for his district. The words and praise that reached us made my soul shrivel and burn. I fervently held onto the hope that Finnick was not too damaged by his experiences.

When he came back, Finnick was different. He looked different. He was beautiful, something I had never fully noticed before, nor ever truly appreciated. Because, you see, he was kind to me when he didn't have to be. Kindness, strength. The only things I asked of life. I knew I possessed the one, but felt I was still searching for the other.

He looked different. But he didn't act different. My relief, initially, was tenfold and for a time, things seemed to carry on. He and Shad went out onto the barges every day with the men, he came to dinner like before, we went swimming. Then, he had to go on his Victory Tour and when he got back from that, life still went on. This is one philosopy, my son, I have clung desperately to all my life:

Life moves on.

But then Finnick started being summoned to the Capitol more frequently. He'd be gone for long stretches of time, maybe two to five months. When we asked, he only said that he had certain duties now as a Victor; he was no longer a fisherman. There was a fleeting sadness, I remember, when he told us this, which just as quickly dissolved into a a beautiful smile.

By this time, I had switched from seaweed crowns to a craft with wider appeal: jewelry-making. I was a collector. Some of it was treasure, but most of it was just garbage, I think. But I never threw it away. I used some of the more impressive items in my collection of shells to make necklaces, one for my mother and two for some girls who had been nice to me over the summer. When my mother saw hers, I could see an idea forming on her face. That's how I ended up managing a seasonal booth at the market with her when I turned 11. We made and sold jewelry. My fingers never ached so much that autumn.


	8. Chapter 8

VII

As the date of my first Reaping drew ever closer, I began having panic attacks. I didn't know where they came from, I just remember the helplessness of seeing that baby seal, of having to give my brother and our closest friend to the lottery every year. I would think again and again, 'This isn't right. This isn't right! Why does it have to be this way? Why are they so afraid of us?' The treacherous, dangerous weight of my thoughts made me panic even more.

A few weeks after the attacks began, Finnick came home from the Capitol for the Reaping. Mother was at the market and Shad hadn't come home from the docks yet. So, we played a card game. The red on the cards triggered something. Maybe the bloody baby seal. Or the body of a child, twisted and crippled. I could hear the voice of the district escort, whose name I refused to know. I could hear the death in the silence of the square. A name called.

I didn't realize my hands were over my ears again or that I had squeezed my eyes tight shut. I felt a warm hand on my wrist and it startled me. Finnick knelt beside me, his eyes searching mine with concern and fear. He didn't ask me what was wrong or if I was alright, or even if he could get me anything. He simply knew, I think. He put his arms around me and asked me to tell him how to make a seashell necklace.

So, I told him until the fear left my voice.


	9. Chapter 9

VII

It was a good thing, I suppose, that his role as Victor and mentor required that he be at the Reapings because I never could get through another one without Finnick. He and Shad. They were the only ones who could calm me.

Though it may have gone unnoticed by others, Finnick seemed to dread his return to the Capitol, more so than before. I could sense he wouldn't talk about it anyway if I asked, so I told him to write to me. I meant it in a friendly sort of way. Mail, receiving and sending it, was a luxury then, but as a Victor (and the most celebrated Victor in years) Finnick could afford it. But I didn't expect him to take me up on the offer.

He did, though, and for good measure he wrote to Mother and Shad as well. But for me, I felt his letters were more open-hearted, especially after he began sending me two letters at once. You see, Mother, Shad, and I would share our letters with each other. They were a luxury, after all. But after a few months, Finnick sent me two, one "for show" letter and the real letter. The real letters were troubling to my mind.

_The burdens are too great for one person to bear. I'm sorry to ask it of you, but you have the strength, Annie. I think you above everyone, even Shad, have the strength to help me bear these burdens. I think I might go mad here if I don't tell someone. I don't know what to do, I don't know who to be anymore. I feel like how they want me to feel. I feel defeated._

I remember every word of that first letter. I can't repeat the worst of them. But you know what your father was forced to.

I was young, maybe too young, to help him carry his fear and pain. I answered in the only way I could: I wrote him stories. I wrote about the ocean. I wrote histories of sea kings and queens. I wrote a story about a little brown seahorse far from home. I sang him songs and painted him pictures. I sent him a necklace with a lengthy note about how, when I found the perfect shell, I had to coax the crab from its home and persuade him to move into a newer, roomier residence.

I hoped he would laugh. I hoped he wouldn't be so homesick. I hoped he could still hope.

There were more stories, lots more, enough to fill all the paper he sent home twice.


	10. Chapter 10

IX

In my memory, I cling to the two and a half years after the stories began. At times, it was like trying to hold water in my palm.

In the time between Reapings, I felt beautiful.

I felt invincible.

I felt myself loving me.

There's not much more to tell.

Except that now Finnick loved me, too.


	11. Chapter 11

X

When I reached my 15th year, I let myself feel comfortable. Maybe this was a mistake. I went into that year's Reaping without a single panic attack. Maybe love blinded me. Maybe, I thought, I will outlast the Reapings. Maybe I will make it through another three years unscathed.

Of course, you know how wrong I was.

Son, I haven't offered this part for Katniss's book, because it was too painful. It still is. But you deserve to know what happened. You deserve to know why your mother sometimes wasn't "all there". And please forgive me if I ever left you alone in those moments. Please know I never wanted you to be frightened, or sad, or confused. Bad things happen to people and people cope in different ways. I tried to be better, for you. No, no. I _AM_ better, because of you. Though the scars remain, know that you are the one who healed me, my sweet child.

I was 15. No one volunteered for me among the girls; they all glared at me that day. Some smirked. I couldn't think beyond my shock and panic, but now I know those girls were jealous of me. They wanted me to be up there, because I had Finnick.

The worst part was still to come.

My knees shook so badly when I walked up the stairs, I tripped and fell. Sweat broke out all over my body. I felt sick, faint. Finnick's eyes were the only thing keeping me steady. The male tribute was called. The name was on my lips as I finally collapsed. When I came to, we were already on the train. Shad held my hand. I asked for Mother. He couldn't speak, I remember, could only hand me her necklace, my necklace that I'd made for her. I cried, knowing for sure I'd never see her again.

The rest, the training, the test, the interviews and ceremonies, all that is a blur for me. I was only half in my mind. Everyone was underestimating me. But Shad was a target because he was big and strong and had fighting experience. And they all knew he wouldn't leave me.

Finnick was there as much as he could be to mentor us. It didn't make me jealous to see him with his Capitol admirers. Even in my fear and hate, I pitied them more than I could ever envy them. Mags was always with me, though. She really was a very special lady. She talked to us about survival techniques the most. She felt our best way was to outlast the others. I didn't dare ask what to do if it came down to Shad and I. I didn't dare.

I had nightmares in the Capitol. Shad would always come running to save me. Finnick, too, when he was able to spend the nights with us. I felt myself losing control, and the Games hadn't even begun. I wondered what it was doing to my mother; she had been ill at the time of the Reaping.

When we parted, Finnick's kiss was enough to let me escape, just for a precious moment. Absurdly, I might have felt stronger after it. He assured me I had courage, I had strength, I had passion for life. I didn't know what he was saying. I don't know what he said to Shad. I didn't want to know.

I'm sorry. I don't remember anything when the countdown ended. I just know that somehow Shad and I got away cleanly. I've never run so fast in my life. We scavenged for three days, holing up in a cave. Shad was spotted by the two tributes from District 5 and the male tribute from 8. He came back to tell me, said he was going to lead them away and I was to stay hidden. There was no time for goodbye.

I think madness had already taken hold of me. I couldn't watch him leave like that. I was so frightened. I picked up a heavy limb and followed the sounds of their retreat. It took every atom in my being not to scream when I felt my heart torn out of my chest.

When it was over, I stayed hidden. The others went off, not knowing where I was. I don't know how long I lay there. Maybe days. I wasn't even that well hidden. Anyone could have found me and killed me, too. I was in danger of starvation when sponsor food saved me. Finnick, of course. It kept me alive for five more relentless days.

That's when the arena was flooded. The memories are getting hard to summon. I was washed into the vicinity of three other tributes, I don't know which ones. One, a girl, maybe the youngest tribute, was near me struggling to keep her head up. I instinctively tried to save her. She had blond hair. She went under more than once until finally she never came back up. I saw the others drown.

It was so violent, the water. After awhile, it calmed. I was so exhausted. I swam. I floated on my back. I tread the water around me, screaming in my head when my voice had long ran hoarse and soundless. Long into the night until eight images hung above me, the last of the tributes.

I guess I did have some mettle, after all.

But I could feel my mind already slipping away.


	12. Chapter 12

XI

I didn't speak for twelve weeks.

Maybe subconsciously it was a sign of mourning for the Districts. I don't know.

They canceled my Victory Tour mid-way through; probably, they gave up on me. Probably, they got tired of me screaming or shaking uncontrollably in the middle of delivering my lines. I made the spirit of the Games look bad. I think there may have been talk about institutionalizing me, but in the end I was allowed to go home.

The quirks that had made me a social outcast before were now heightened. I laughed at random times, in sudden bursts, at things that were quite unfunny. My day dreams were so vivid that I often got utterly lost in them; when I was brought back by a gentle hand or a worried voice, I had no idea what had been said or, sometimes, where I even was.

And, oh, the voices. They were so, so loud:

_They have to be stopped! Something has to be done! _

_ They can't keep killing us! Why do we let them kill our souls? _

_ Life isn't supposed to be this way! _

_ Someone, please help me! _

_ Don't find me! Please! _

_ Don't kill him!_

_ PLEASE!_

And then my brother's voice, the strongest, would fight to be heard:

_Annie! Hide!_

_ Don't think things like that, they'll get you into trouble! _

_ They'll kill you. _

_ They'll take Finnick. _

_ They'll take you away from the sea. _

_ They'll kill you! _

_ Kill you! _

_ KILL!_

All day, every day. The sounds of the dying, the screams of my nightmares. Sometimes, I really felt insane.

When I got home, I asked for my mother, and they pointed me to the sea.


	13. Chapter 13

XII

But life moves on.

I lived with Mags in the Victor's Village. I think my Games were an overall disappointment in the Capitol: not very exciting, hence the flood. Then, they got a crazy girl for a Victor and all they wanted was to put the 70th Games behind them. I wished it was that simple for me.

But I didn't think I was as mad as the others thought I was. The first night I was home, before the Victory Tour began, I was alone. Finnick had to stay in the Capitol and Mags was still there. Mags's house was on a wharf, so I could still hear and smell and taste the ocean. But I didn't like to sit on the rough wood. I wanted the sand and the tide and the crashing of the waves against the rocks. So, I went to the dunes. But I didn't go to my house; I walked right past it with my eyes closed and my ears covered.

I didn't go back to Mags's house for days, until she came home and came looking for me and found me. Mags was mad: 'You're kind and gentle, and pretty,' she mumbled, taking my hand. 'Why does no one want to help you?' Finnick was furious: He was close to strangling the "friends" he had asked to check on me.

'It's all right,' I told them. 'Don't be mad at them. They're scared, too.'

And I wasn't a very good mentor, but not how you might think. I got too attached. The first year, I tried to mentor the girl tribute, a little thing barely turned 12. I didn't know how to tell them how to kill. I didn't know how to show them ways to survive. She was so frightened. She was blond, too, just like that other little girl. I just wanted her to know that she was loved.

Her name was Shelly. She died first in the arena. Right out of the blocks. Trampled, cut to pieces.

It was no problem to explain how unfit I was for mentoring, and I was left in relative peace.


	14. Chapter 14

XIII

Left to myself, my recovery improved. Being alone didn't bother me so much. After all, I was a loner by nature. Yet, I still craved and longed for Finnick's reassuring presence. When he couldn't be with me, though, I had the sea. I felt that as long as I had one or the other, I was OK. It was when I was denied both that I struggled.

Eventually, with my Victory earnings and some of Finnick's, we built this house so I could live on the beach again. I started leaving one window open, rain or shine, so I could hear the water. You would think that water might be a trigger for me now. But it wasn't. Water, the sea, is part of me. It's my blood.

No, water wasn't a bad thing. Aside from my old house, I couldn't say what triggered my trauma. It could be a word or a look. It could be a sound or a color. It could be anything, really.

But I had Calm Moments, which came more frequently as the months passed. Once, during a Calm Moment about a year after my failed Tour, I asked Finnick why he stayed with me, a "poor mad girl" who no one spoke to yet everyone pitied. He might have been happy with any shimmery thing in the Capitol. He might have been happy with any carefree girl here at home. You see, I didn't want to be what held him back from someone else. Someone normal.

I found out later what it was Finnick had said to Shad that day:

'Yes.'

Because it was Shad who had asked of Finnick:

'Will you keep her safe for me? Will you see her through this, now and after?'

Finnick thought it was always Shad's ultimate plan, to die so that I might live. Or, at the very least, so we wouldn't be forced to kill one another. I was afraid Finnick felt honor-bound to me.

I remember he just smiled, and to look at him, then, you would think he'd no lasting signs of damage. It was a talent of his. It was a talent and a skill that had kept him well-placed in the Capitol and, therefore, alive.

He said my name softly, like a summer wind. 'Annie,' he said, 'you're just as sane as I am and no one can tell me different. At heart, we are the same: hurt but not broken. I stay with you not out of guilt or because I made a promise. I stay with you because I love you. I always have. Annie, I loved you before, I love you after, and I love you now.'

But why? The question hung between us in the salty air. It's not that I held myself in such low esteem. I just needed to hear it.

Again, he smiled. 'Because we are connected so many times over, we should be in knots. Because you are my oldest friend, the only one I trust with my secrets, my fears. Because you kept the demons at bay, and you kept me alive. Because you give me hope. Because you're never more beautiful than when you are kind, and you're kind all the time. Because, after everything that's happened to you, you are still pure and good. Because you make me laugh, something I thought I would never do again. And you make me think anything is possible. Because maybe I'm a little mad, too.'

The last said with the most beautiful smile yet.

Before, Finnick used to say I could have had any man in the world; it made me scoff, for no boy but him had ever given me a second glance. In that Moment, I fully understood: after all this time and through all the torture, he could still marvel at and be humbled by the fact that he was the one I'd chosen to hold my beating heart.

And to mend it.


	15. Chapter 15

XIV

I feel like I can sleep now. I don't know what else to say. The rest has been recorded by Katniss and others.

When you get lonesome for me, I want you to write a story.

It can be five words long, it can be five pages long.

I want you to write about what you feel when you see the barges coming in; what wonders you imagine living in the sea; what you wish when you find a sand dollar.

And then I want you to read it aloud, so I'll be sure to hear it.

Goodnight, my brightest star, my sweetest heart.

Goodbye.


End file.
